


The Many Deaths of Kōichi Zenigata

by Algernon



Category: Lupin III
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Temporary Character Death, Time Loop, Time Travel, Uncertain spelling of Zenigata's first name
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:35:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29018295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Algernon/pseuds/Algernon
Summary: Zenigata is placed in a different time over a several year period whenever he dies. He continues his work per normal, not too bothered by his unusual situation. He doesn't realise himself that he's being worn down bit by bit with each death and a recurring case that haunts him. Someone else notices though.
Relationships: Arsène Lupin III & Zenigata Kouichi
Comments: 6
Kudos: 33





	The Many Deaths of Kōichi Zenigata

**Author's Note:**

> Good Lord, I smashed this out in four days. The draft took two and then I spent yesterday and today revising. Where the enthusiasm for this came from? I have no idea.
> 
> Full disclosure here, guys, I'm relatively new to Lupin III and what I've managed to watch so far is barely anything considering all the movies, OVAs, specials and TV series available. If the characterisation seems a bit off in anyway I take responsibility for jumping the gun and writing a fanfic so soon after getting into it.
> 
> Also, it's a bit of weird mix where I wrote the characters like the more light-hearted series but I put them in a darker world like some of the later series. So heads up on that.

Zenigata fully acknowledged the latest incident was his fault. He had been getting careless, a natural by-product of death currently having no consequences for him, and gotten a shotgun round to his chest for the screw-up.

It wasn't the first time he'd been involved in a hostage situation and it went without saying it wouldn't be the last. He could've talked with the criminal more, or could've waited until they positioned themselves wrong so he could get in a clean shot. Hell, it was just as likely Jigen would've gotten himself lined up and conclusively dealt with the situation, no matter how far behind Zenigata he was he could've hit the criminal easily.

Instead, he pushed his luck and stepped forward a few times, not realising there was an accomplice hiding behind the open door to the left and as soon as he was in front of it that was it for him. He'd only had time to turn and face the shadowed man before he'd been blasted to the right against the opposite wall, unable to gasp because his lungs had been blown apart from getting a round that close.

“Oh, shit-” he heard Fujiko shout from the far end of the corridor.

It was the first time he'd died with Lupin and his gang around. He'd always wondered what happened with them after he died. He presumed they all got reset, occasionally on more morbid days when he considered if he was leaving behind an entire world he imagined they might go to his gravestone when no one else was around and leave flowers, maybe acknowledge the rivalry being over at long last.

He heard gunfire while he was still sliding down the concrete wall, then the fugitive shrieked along with the hostage. Things were getting fuzzy real fast, this was going to be one of the quick deaths.

A white blur ran in front of him and dove into doorway. Goemon, he acknowledged distantly, thoughts starting to fade.

Lupin was definitely calling out Pops, then his ears starting ringing. His vision was fading to white, the last thing he saw was the thief's brown shoes. Touch was usually the final sensation to fade, this time feeling hands shaking his shoulders before that was gone too.

He remained in that empty state for a few seconds, then opened his eyes and he was at a desk looking at a mound of paperwork, fresh coffee steaming next to him.

He rubbed his eyes, glad at least he was brought back to a calm situation and not dumped in the middle of a high speed chase as he had been a couple of times before.

He distantly remembered he was completing paperwork for the England case. _'Right, the one with the smuggled art being delivered by fake taxis'_ , he recalled. He'd been placed around two years later in time from where he just was. He could knock this out quickly, he'd completed it at least twice in previously loops, not including the original time he completed it.

Taking a sip of coffee, which was too sweet for his liking, he picked up a pen and resolved himself to work through it for the next few hours. It was a relaxing come down considering what he'd just been through.

Two days later Lupin burst into his hotel room like he owned the place. Zenigata had been walking across the room to get his bag, barely had started to splutter out the thief's name before he was pounced upon and gripped tightly. He shouted in protest, honestly having no idea what the hell this was about and already reaching into his jacket for a pair of handcuffs.

“Pops! You're okay!” he'd shouted into his chest.

Zenigata then realised he was being hugged, which only added to his confusion.

“What? Lupin, what are you doing?” Handcuffs balanced between his fingers, he tried shoving the other man off him. He was sturdy as ever for such a wirey body. “Get off me! You're under arrest!”

Lupin laughed almost hysterically and looked up at him, face creased in relief. “I'm glad to hear that again.”

“What?”

It took him several silent moments, then Zenigata got it. Lupin was coming along for the ride with him. He remembered seeing him splattered across that tunnel wall and wanted to check on his current safety for himself. He felt dizzy with the revelation.

“Also,” Lupin said, sounding infinitely more at ease. “I'm taking this, alright?” He then showed off the envelope that had been in Zenigata's pocket before he'd come into the room.

He had to apologise to the hotel manager later for the disturbance he'd caused the other guests when chasing the little bastard out the hotel. Jigen had been waiting for him behind a wheel in the drop off zone, surprisingly Goemon and Fujiko were crammed in the back seat of the tiny yellow Fiat as well. Damn them all, his car was deep in the car park and by the time he could retrieve it they would be too far ahead to catch.

Emotional creature he was, he'd fought back weeping when he'd gotten back to his room. Only a few tears had gotten out as he'd leaned back against the closed door taking deep breaths. To know he wasn't alone in all this, that each time he wasn't the only one who knew time was looping did marvels to get rid of the isolation he'd been feeling for however long. Sometimes he felt like he was watching a movie only he'd seen dozens of time, there was no one else to talk with about the upcoming story without spoiling it or giving himself away that he'd already seen it.

This was the first time Lupin had shown any concern or acknowledgement of his death. It was also the first time Lupin had witnessed his death first-hand. This likely meant two things.

First of all, Lupin didn't know Zenigata's deaths were causing the loops. If he was shoved around in time immediately upon Zenigata's demise he wouldn't have a chance to learn of his death in the first place. If he experienced it himself first-hand a few more times he would no doubt piece it together.

Secondly, because he hadn't been able to get himself together the thief may not know that both of them were aware of the loops. That was what Zenigata understood at least.

This also explained to him why Lupin took different routes in repeated heists instead of going down the original path. That should've been what tipped him off he remembered the in the first place.

He could always track down Lupin and inform him that he was aware of what was happening as well, he could, if his job didn't take higher priority. He really had to focus on work first and put this whole matter behind him for later.

He groused that Lupin didn't have to steal the envelope while reaching for his phone, that it was just a secondary goal and the thief was showing off. That envelope contained several historical letters between a wealthy couple and their niece detailing the value of a set of prized family crockery. Zenigata didn't know plates could be so valuable, regardless, it was his duty to keep the set safe. He wasn't looking forward to explaining this to the higher ups.

He lasted a year this time. He was with a squad tracking down what they all thought was initially a run of the mill gold smuggling enterprise Lupin had hinted he was interested in on their last encounter. They'd thought it was a relatively small operation, then they'd walked into a room that was wall to wall with bricks of cocaine and next thing they knew it was a drug bust. They called for back up, all knowing it was going to get there too late.

He drowned and it was by far the worst death he'd ever had. The docks had shattered with gunfire under him, his legs and left arm had gotten caught in netting that was weighed down with a boat motor that had been waiting for repair. His lungs had burned and he'd panicked as black crept in on his vision. His eyes felt like they were going to burst and he fought hard to escape this one, cutting his hands along metal and sharp wood tangled up with him and he still hadn't been able to get free. Eventually he lost his strength and surrendered.

It was a mercy when he next opened his eyes and he was looking at Lupin who had a bag over his shoulder and one foot turned towards a staircase. He looked confused before a smirk stretched over his face.

Zenigata didn't hear what he said over his own coughing. He doubled over and grasped his chest, still feeling the icy water gagging his throat and weighing him down. His other hand covered his mouth to fight back the urge to vomit the memory of seawater.

It passed, and when he looked up Lupin hadn't taken the opportunity to get away and was instead staring at him with a near disturbed look on his face, smile now empty.

“You alright there, Pops? Not able to keep up anymore?” he asked carefully.

He could've explained then and there that he just died from inhaling what felt like all the water in an obscure Welsh port, instead he gripped the handcuffs harder and launched himself forward. “I can still keep up with you!”

Lupin's grin picked back up and he darted away.

It wasn't a long loop and Zenigata was shot three weeks later in a police raid he was asked to attend while he happened to be in Rome pursing Lupin. Things kept seeming to catch him off guard nowadays. He couldn't chalk it up to getting older if he was occasionally pushed back in age.

He was placed in a peaceful period where most of his side cases were being wrapped up and he only had to worry about the documentation, with Lupin having gone silent for a while he didn't have too much to do. It left him time to get curious about what the thief thought of all this. He still couldn't think of an opportunity to talk with him about it. There were cases upcoming that would take up too much of his time in between running after the man himself, and every time he was chasing him he got too in the moment to remember to ask.

Later that loop, for the first time since he'd started dying regularly something truly bad happened. It came to Zenigata in the form of a sex-trafficking ring. He was pushing the age he'd been before his first death transpired and this case was a first for him, the first time he'd instead been guarding an ancient civilisations abacus that was made out of some extinct metal, naturally Lupin sent a card to steal it. Because Lupin was so quiet this time they threw him on something else.

This was so far away from his usual department of high value theft he'd barely held himself together as he'd stepped across the threshold of the nightclub back room. He didn't want to be here, he didn't have the experience to deal with situations like this and he was only there because he was the ideal candidate to recognise equipment. It was a colossal fuck-up of a newly promoted officer that got him assigned to go undercover in something he clearly wasn't an appropriate fit for.

The tragedy was that so many high-ranking officers frequented these places it was easy for him to get in undercover no matter how obvious it was he was a cop.

It had started as another money-counterfeit case, which had gotten him assigned, then it emerged what other unsavoury dealings they were involved in. Several more detectives were thrown onto the case from sex crimes and he was kept on. One had joined him on tonight's venture, very obviously chosen for being middle-aged and fitting a generic look of a pervert with a badge.

His heart had been hammering as he'd walked through the darkened hallways. Alcohol had been soaked into the carpet and the smell was overpowering. Inspector Byrne with him was stern-faced.

“White girl? Dark girl?” the wrinkled host turned and asked him with a wide grin. Zenigata couldn't place his accent.

It wasn't his style to be subtle, he wanted to start shouting and demanding information immediately. Instead he had to push all that down and remember what he'd been coached to say.

“Japanese,” he said steadily, fighting anger so hard a blush struck across his cheeks.

The host nodded enthusiastically and gestured to his left. “Ah, cop?”

“I don't see how that's relevant.”

“No, no, not relevant.” The man smirked wickedly and Zenigata had a terrible feeling rise in his gut. It wasn't a self-preservation instinct, he'd ignored plenty of those to recognise them. “It's just, ah, cops in this area have a type. We know what you want.”

Zenigata resisted the urge to look back at the other inspector for clarification. He had to ignore what was going on behind all the red doorways he walked past for his own sanity. He had to fight his natural instincts tooth and nail. As soon he got the confirmation of what this place was they could storm it. Prostitution was legal in this area, they just had to talk with one of the girls and get some hard information and they were good to raze this place to the ground. He was assured it wouldn't be hard. They higher-ups wanted this to be as tightly sealed as possible before going in guns blazing.

“This way, officer,” the man smiled brightly and reached out to a door handle.

Perhaps if behind the door had been the college girl Zenigata was told to expect he would have been able to complete the mission flawlessly, they could have spoken a bit in his first language and then returned the following day with truck upon truck of riot police to arrest everyone and anyone who was even remotely associated with this place.

Instead, as soon as the door opened and revealed a child sitting on a bed in a short blue dress he'd known he had lost this loop. It would be a moment he would remember all through his future resets, her plump legs dangling on the side of the bed and her short bob haircut around her chin, her little downcast eyes. The inspector with him was completely pale and looked to be turning green in the dim lighting as Zenigata turned and pulled his gun from his holster, shooting the host straight through the forehead without breaking his stride.

He barely remembered what happened afterwards. He just recalled punching those that rushed him and shooting the ones that pulled something on him. He never thought he had it in him to shoot before asking questions or trying for an arrest.

He was riddled with bullets when his body finally gave out. The only remorse he'd felt was for Inspector Byrne who had starting fighting alongside him and had gone done much faster than he had. He was appreciative of the loyalty, he'd soon be alive and well again with no knowledge of what transpired.

Those girls wouldn't be alright and there wasn't anything he could do. He was sitting at a café in what his memories told him was Bruges, meant to be chasing Lupin this time for some incredibly valuable furniture.

He was younger again, that girl was probably younger, she may not even be trapped in that place yet.

He ran his hands down his face to rid himself of the sweat that was forming.

“Zenigata?” Officer Janssens asked opposite him. “Are you alright?”

“Fine, just-” he took a deep breath to calm himself. “Just thinking over some plans for tomorrow.”

The chase after Lupin, Jigen and Goemon was a disaster. The local police did their job perfectly, the failure was on him. He didn't have his usual energy and had barely shouted anything at them or come after them. They got away within minutes, scaling a building he originally had no problem running up, instead he'd stared at them jumping away on the rooftops.

He'd run by a small child with her mother in the street and nearly started weeping as he thought back to the girl, that he could avoid that case but she may not able to avoid that purple room.

They actually managed to recover the most valuable item in the initial skirmish and everyone was satisfied with how it was handled. Zenigata gave an unenthusiastic briefing and praised all the officers and agents with him before leaving to his hotel room to get very drunk.

He was three quarters through a bottle of whiskey when Lupin and Jigen slunk in through his window and he immediately stumbled up to get another smoke.

“Really, should I expect Goemon to walk in next?” he'd asked without turning to face them, instead focusing his failing coordination to light his cigarette.

“He's on the street below,” Lupin replied and walked further into the room.

Zenigata took a deep drag. He felt naked in front of them without his jacket, hat and tie. More emotionally bare than anything, he couldn't fool them and it depended on how much Lupin wanted to press him.

“After that poor performance today we just knew something was up and had to find out. Is there more treasure we should know about?” Lupin teased and when Zenigata turned back to him there was a glint in his eyes. “Perhaps-”

“Lupin,” Zenigata warned, thoroughly not in the mood, “Not today.”

That statement brought silence down on the room immediately and the air became stiff. Lupin's expression didn't change as Zenigata collapsed back in his chair.

Jigen spoke first. “What's up, Pops? It ain't like you to give up so easy.”

Zenigata always hated hearing that nickname come out of the mouth of a man who was recently middle-aged himself. “It's none of your business, now get out before I arrest you.”

“Wow, Pops, could you say that with any less enthusiasm?” Lupin stepped forward, head tilted and hands in his pockets. “Come on, what's up?”

He had been once again presented with the opportunity to tell Lupin that he was the cause of the loops, except with Jigen in the room it would be hard to explain without sounding like a madman. He felt a little mad, thinking back to the nightclub and all the possibilities he could take in the future to avoid it becoming what it was when he went there.

“It's personal,” he said to the glass in front on him. “Inner turmoil.”

Lupin waited for a few seconds, then reached back and pulled up a chair to his table, Jigen leaned against the backing and pulled out a cigarette for himself. “I think we've known each other for long enough that I can understand you.” Arrogant as ever he crossed his legs and thumped both feet on the table right next to his glass.

The three of them knew Zenigata didn't have the energy or sobriety to arrest them. Lupin was watching his face and he avoided it, instead staring at the gold liquid in front of him.

He thumbed the stubble on his jaw, then spoke. “The last case I was on in-between going after you. Its a bit hard to go from that to chasing a thief.” He took a drag of his cigarette.

Lupin waited again, when realising he wasn't going to speak immediately he reached into his jacket for his cigarettes. The hotel wasn't going to be happy with him tomorrow with all the smoke that was in their room.

“I was put on for money-counterfeiting, then more inspectors were added when we found out there was sex-trafficking involved.” That purple room, that little girl. He ran his hands down his face. “I was sent to a nightclub they were operating from and there was a child, maybe six, in one of the rooms.” He could still see it so clearly.

“Jesus.” That came from Jigen, who was letting his cigarette burn out in between his fingers. One of his eyes was showing wide. “That's not your usual department.”

“It's not. They wanted me to go there so I could assess the money-counterfeit side of things. I was coached on what to say but...” He breathed out and removed his hands to look down at the floor. “The other inspector that was with me was killed, everything went to hell very quickly.” It was one of those loops where he wished he could find out what happened after his death. He wanted to determine the best pathway for everyone else so that only he would die. “Whole thing was...” He didn't know how to finish that, he had no idea what would've happened after his death. They could've been slandered across the media as perverts, or the whole place could've been raided as a result and they'd been posthumously treated like heroes. He'd never know.

Instead of saying anything further he reached for his glass, downed the rest of the drink and immediately poured himself another one.

Lupin said nothing, his hand frozen in his jacket, cigarettes forgotten. His mouth was fixed in a straight line.

He'd been reminded that Zenigata worked cases that weren't just him, that his world was far dirtier than his could ever be. Lupin could walk into clubs like that, make an anonymous tip off to police and walk on his merry way, Zenigata was the one that had to go in and deal with it. Now he was coping with his own emotional fallout by drinking. Lupin knew he didn't have the right to take the bottle in some attempt of compassion.

“Get out, Lupin, you shouldn't have come.”

Lupin quietly removed his hand from his jacket. “Take care of yourself, Pops.”

Zenigata died two years later by having a knife jabbed up and into his ribcage and bled out on the tiles of a mansion Lupin was meant to rob later. Killed by the very owners of the item that was going to be stolen. He'd suspected there was something more going on and they knew he did and acted first. He was a bit embarrassed at being caught off guard so easily.

One thing he learned quickly is that the way things went the first time, before his first death, were how the universe started no matter where he was placed after death. He could take a different path, die, open his eyes to a year later, and everyone was referencing how the original path went, no mention at all of what he did last loop. Lupin apparently thought this applied to him as well.

The first time they did Bruges Zenigata chased him up and down the whole town, shouting up a storm and successfully got back another haul from the two of them.

He knew Lupin still remembered his story about the nightclub because it explained why he'd been publicly stealing anything and everything of high value that wasn't nailed down in the months leading up to the next loop's Bruges. It forced Zenigata away from many other cases to chase the little shit all around the world.

Lupin thought the nightclub incident must be how that particular loop went before Bruges, not knowing the full story, that it was years down the path and Zenigata had already started to look it up to try and stop it early.

By the time Bruges finally happened Zenigata gave him what he wanted all right, he was so frustrated with his antics over the past several months he could have given a megaphone a run for it's money with how vocal he was being. He channelled all the annoyance into that night and successfully caught him and Jigen.

They'd gotten them into a police cruiser and were halfway to the closest prepared station when the car was cut in half and officers and criminals alike went spilling across the road.

“Dammit, Lupin!” he'd shouted at the man as he ran down the street. Lupin looked back over at him and smiled something genuine and warm.

Zenigata was if nothing else a sentimental man and let the thief think he'd stopped him going through some traumatic incident. At least for now, he knew everything would come out eventually and Lupin would realise he still remembered the nightclub, that it was something Zenigata still dwelt on.

Two deaths later, he was approaching a third when who else should come through the park he was bleeding out of but Lupin the Third. He'd remembered last time he chased this particular criminal after being forced to once again team up with the Lupin gang, this time he'd cut through a park he'd known they were going to go through. Last time he followed closely behind them and lost them through a series of back alleys and he had been determined to prevent that from happening. What he hadn't known is that they'd had people waiting for them in the park.

“Pops, Pops...” Lupin called softly and crouched over him. “You weren't supposed to go this way.”

“Clearest pathway to the airport...” he mumbled. He was so weary, the wound hurt like hell and he was ready to throw in the towel on this rotten loop. It hadn't been a good one and he seemingly had a screw up on every case that he had previously completed without a hitch.

“Not the safest apparently,” Jigen sighed and pulled out his cellphone.

Lupin shrugged off his jacket, bundled it, leaned over and pressed it against his side.

“What are you doing?” he managed through the pain making it's way into his lungs, “Go and get them, leave me behind.”

“Ah, Pops, you really think we'll do that?” Lupin said softly and cupped his face with one hand, still looking down at him. “Just focus on staying alive, alright?”

_'Oh, the irony,'_ he thought. He wanted to tell Lupin everything then, or tell him to find him next loop and he'd explain everything, but the pain had reaching his back it was searing, immobilising him from agony.

“I'm serious, Pops, stay with us. Don't close your eyes.”

He stayed alive until the paramedics arrived, up until he got to the hospital, and most surprisingly he woke up in the hospital days later, so many tubes and gauze on his body he could barely move. He'd gotten so used to dying with every stab or gunshot wound he almost forgot they could be treated.

“Can't you come back when I have the strength to arrest you?” he groaned several days later when Lupin strolled in disguised as a blonde doctor and twirling a pen in his hand.

The thief laughed. “Glad to see you're okay, Pops.”

He stayed okay for a few solid years after that, even just making it past the age he'd been after he first died. It was the longest he'd gone in recent memory without dying and he made a face when he realised that, finding it bizarre how accustomed he'd come to it all. It didn't last when a historical stone building collapsed on him while he was running after Fujiko, who was carrying an armful of Elizabethan era gowns. She didn't see his death though and he doubted she even realised he died.

He wasn't put all that far back. Currently he was six months away from the nightclub case and had already been fervently working on it for the past three. He was aware he could have taken the original path and gone after several art dealers in France Lupin would be stealing from, instead he'd innocently looked into a few money-laundering schemes, which eventually lead to him being placed on a suspected money-counterfeit case, then it was easy to get evidence of sex-trafficking. He was too crucial a component of the investigation to split himself between duties so Lupin got assigned to several other inspectors. The case was quickly gaining traction and he was being praised from nearly every higher up there was for picking up on it.

He was pushing hard to storm the place immediately to stop it as soon as possible, aware that every day they delayed was a day that little girl, and however many other little girls and boys were waiting to be rescued from those purple rooms.

It was the determination to get this done and the subsequent silence on his part that brought out Lupin. Being chased by other officers for months and not seeing hide or hair of Zenigata intrigued them evidentially. They were getting more and more blatant with their disguises, hanging around his usual coffee shops or takeaway places waiting to see if he would start something, seeing how far they could push it before he'd chase them again. If he did go after them he might be moved back to deal with Lupin solely once more and the whole investigation could fall apart without his foresight. He played up his exhaustion hoping they'd believe that was why he wasn't on his usual guard.

It was a night he didn't need to fake his fatigue, and the second week in row he'd been cooped up in the same office researching everything he could about the nightclub and coordinating with too many other offices and countries, which is no doubt why all four of them, all goddamn four, had dressed themselves up as night policemen and decided to really test his patience. They must have run out of treasures to steal for them to be this bored and want to follow his police work.

The passion to catch all of them was taken out of him, replaced by an angry, all consuming desire to shut this place down. He outright ignored Lupin to continue typing as he placed a mug of coffee next to him, not looking at the man's red-haired disguise, feeling four sets of eyes on him while it happened. They all lingered around him. A long-coated officer who was absolutely Goemon had been sitting silently in a chair several feet behind him for the past half an hour, Jigen was chatting with actual officers, and Fujiko fluttered to filing cabinets like an extra in the background of a cop show. It was getting ridiculous.

“We've got the confirmation from sex crimes,” Officer Mendez stated while walking up to his desk, the darkness beneath his eyes could nearly give Zenigata's a run for it's money.

Zenigata leaned back and sighed. “And?”

“It's what we thought.” Tiredly, he added. “There are minors involved.”

He knew it, still, hearing it aloud was still something else. He rubbed at his eyes and rolled his neck. He saw the girl's stumpy legs dangling over the side of the bed. “Sooner we storm this nightclub the better.”

Zenigata felt the room go still to his left. Lupin had stopped whatever he'd been doing a few feet away and was actively eavesdropping. If Fujiko remaining indifferent to their conversation and continuing to stroke her nail up and down the files in another cabinet was any indication, Lupin hadn't told anyone of Zenigata's drunken story yet. How could he after all, when it didn't happen in this timeline?

He didn't care. He got back to work, he wanted to stop this place.

Lupin raked up his steal count over the next month. Damn near every week he was stealing some invaluable piece of art or jewellery that had Interpol sweating. They hesitantly asked if he would take the Lupin case again. Through clenched teeth he declined and they admitted they were glad when he said the nightclub was more important.

He never got a chance to put all his work in motion. Men in their fifties were at the highest risk of a heart attack and it was something he'd completely forgotten about. His body lasted another two weeks before punishing him for working it so hard. He may have survived if he hadn't been driving at the same time through a highway on a mountain, the road on a steep edge. His car careened over the side and through the dizziness he cursed that all that work had been for nothing.

The second interaction with the nightclub had changed something in Zenigata despite not ever actually setting foot in it. There was something beginning to well in him, and he seemed to flip between irritation and weariness each day.

He thought that even if they had of pulled off the case perfectly it may have just been created all over again. That lead him to thinking about how it was just one of hundreds, likely thousands of identical operations that existed all around the world. He never once felt frustration at redoing his cases through all the loops, he became a detective because he enjoyed working on crimes of theft. Faced with a case so much more important than an attention-seeking thief running rampant, and worse, one he may not be able to prevent, had changed that.

He let himself get into more dangerous situations and barely bothered with Lupin, pouring more time into full blown syndicates or mafias. He hadn't been killed yet despite how many guns he had pointed at him, it didn't go unnoticed by the other inspectors. He got yelled at more than once for his apparent disregard for his own life, which was often followed with frustrated praise because he'd been getting in some impressive results lately.

He died after a year and a half, during that time he only saw Lupin physically four times. The last time he encountered him Lupin made the obvious joke about being lonely then ran whooping into the night like he was celebrating a victory when Zenigata took off after him.

Things, as they tend to, would come to a head for Zenigata eventually, and not knowing it would be this loop he stormed into the Welsh drug running operation and was completely caught off guard when Lupin actually turned out to be there.

He'd hadn't been able to convince the higher-ups to give them more police to work with and he'd still been feeling exhaustion from the nightclub, so he'd run off to a section he knew was highly armed on his own, ignoring Lupin calling out for him behind him. He carefully avoided the dock but didn't carefully avoid a semi-automatic and took three bullets up his side for it.

Perhaps there was still time for him to be saved, yet as he lay on his side on the cool concrete outside the main building, rain drenching all of them, a gun pointed down at him to finish the job he felt apathetic for the first time. He wasn't particularly fussed about dying or what would happen to the case after this. He lay in his blood in the water around him and no longer cared.

Lupin was trying to talk the gunman down, coolly trying to convince him to walk away to avoid having a murder charge on his record and telling him stories of what they did to cop killers in prison. Zenigata was over the man's ramblings, there was no point in prolonging his death any further.

“You going...to...pull that trigger?” he groaned and looked only up at the gunman, not seeing the shocked stare Lupin was giving him. He knew he had limited words before his body gave out on him once more.

The gunman's face tensed and he gripped the assault rifle tighter. He'd taken it as a challenge.

He didn't recognise his voice it was so raspy. He spoke between wheezes and stuttered breaths. “Just...do it,” he got out, staring at water dripping down his murderer's face, feeling it fall down his own.

“What are you talking about, Pops?” Lupin chuckled through the sound of rainwater, sounding panicked.

“It's...a carou...sal...” he murmured and closed his eyes, waiting for it happen. “We just...go...a...roun...”

Then he was eating katsudon in a tiny restaurant, thinking about what he'd said. He may as well still had cold water pouring down on him, all the anger he'd felt through the last two cycles had gone and been replaced by weariness and resignation. He didn't know why he said that as his final words, he could only blame that his brain still shut down leading to those last moments.

He was in Tokyo investigating the usual gang of thieves. He ate as quickly as possible so he could head to the office and get as much work done before the inevitable arrived. He still had work to do, dying didn't change that.

The inevitable happened around four o'clock the following day with the subtly of a brick to the face, which may have been preferable to what actually happened. A van careened around the corner while he was chatting with a few other officers, standing against the street as it was a pedestrian's right to do, when the vehicle slowed down and he was grabbed with the finesse of a rampaging ape.

He didn't need to see who the sets of hands belonged to before he was shouting out, “Lupin! Let me go!”

He heard the officers fearful cries before the door slammed shut and he was pounced upon with rope.

Jigen must have been driving because the other three were glaring down at him while they rocked with the van's dangerous movements.

“It's been happening to you too, huh?” Fujiko started.

“Why didn't you say anything?” Goemon continued.

Zenigata threw his bound hands to the right to stop himself rolling from a particularly viscous turn. “Because I still have work to do!”

“You've been nonplussed by randomly jumping in time because you're a workaholic?” Lupin asked, looking more amused than anything.

Later, after numerous demands of release had gone ignored he was fastened to the creaky chair of a low-budget hotel room with the four of them seemingly looking into his soul. Eventually, he'd resigned himself that this was going to be a lot quicker if they talked honestly.

“What do you mean 'randomly jumping in time'?” First and foremost, he wanted their side.

“It means just that, Pops,” Jigen scoffed. “We'll be doing our own thing, maybe for a few years or a few months and then we're suddenly in a different time.”

This was going to be hard. He prepared himself to console them.

“And all four of you have been retaining your memories?”

“All four, all throughout these random jumps since day one,” Fujiko replied. “Took us a while to admit to each other what we were experiencing though.”

Zenigata sighed. “It's not random for me.”

The four looked annoyed, something he was certain wouldn't last.

“I'm the cause of the loops,” he said softly.

“Loops, huh? We've been calling them jumps,” Fujiko commented, settling herself on the bed. “Do tell how you broke time and space. That's almost impressive.”

“I'm not sure why, but every time I die everything loops.”

There was a pause.

“I'm sorry?” Lupin asked.

“I'm don't know why it started.”

“...You've been dying?” Lupin asked. The disturbed look he was expecting was rising up on their faces. “Every time?”

“I thought you would've put that together by now. You saw yourself how twice I died and then we immediately were put in a different time.”

“Yeah, but-” Lupin said, sitting down on the chair directly in front of him. “Pops, that's insane. We've jumped dozens of time already.”

“Yeah, and I've been stabbed, shot, drowned or something in each and every one of them,” he grumbled. “Now let me go so I can cuff you all.”

“So you intend to repeat the same work until your time comes, and then you do it again?” Goemon was looking down at him while he asked.

“I'm still an inspector no matter what time we're in,” he stated. “Why do you all go back to thieving after each reset?”

“Because we get to endlessly go on some of our favourite heists and we're still living it up.” Fujiko was grinning from the bed. “It's like having unlimited money, each time we get to spend it on something new.”

“Well, each time I go through this I get a little better at solving cases. That's enough for me. Going through it again doesn't mean there aren't the same criminals that need catching, or-” The little girl in the blue dress. “People that need help.”

“Even if it means you die in your line of work each time?” Jigen asked, biting down on the end of an unlit cigarette.

“I've gotten past the original age I was before this all started happening before, it's just a matter of lasting beyond that. Who knows what'll happen afterwards.”

There wasn't much else to talk about beyond that really. All of them looked uncomfortable with this news, which he expected, and didn't appear to know how to go forward.

“Why don't you come with us?” Lupin asked.

Zenigata scoffed. “And do what?”

His mouth tugged down at one side.

Zenigata sighed. “I appreciate the concern, Lupin, this isn't exactly the ideal situation for me either. I just can't stop my work any more than you could stop yours.”

With that, they all stared at him some more before shifting the topic to what to do next. The next few hours were spent with them arguing over which takeaway to get and to release him, nothing more was said on the loops, or jumps as they were also known as.

While they were blatantly talking about what they planned on stealing next in front of him, teasing him with fresh rice and meat the wooden door made a thunderous crack and flew halfway across the room.

“They took their time!” Jigen shouted as armed officers spilled into the room.

Despite his annoyance, Zenigata was impressed how the four of them flew out of the room within a matter of seconds through the tiny bathroom windows. He was told they slipped away from the officers waiting outside with ease.

He had to answer so many questions over the next week. He told them Lupin was getting cocky and wanted to brag about his upcoming crime sprees, something he was able to prove when he was able to follow their movements precisely for the next four months.

Zenigata only lasted another few months after that. He just remembered seeing a handgun pointed at him and then he was lying in a bed.

He often wondered why he found himself in so many more life and death situations nowadays then he was used to. Criminals seemed more prone to pulling the trigger than they had been in the past. He was starting to believe there was a force out there trying to kill him, or perhaps there was a force trying to keep him alive and he kept coming back until it succeeded and he was in his old age.

Two separate fatal bullet wounds and a three-pile car accident later he was chasing Lupin through Venice. When he caught up to him the thief was leisurely leaning against the stone wall of the building.

“I've been thinking, Pops,” he started while looking at the array of large rings on his fingers. “Let's try and keep you alive for a bit.”

“Let get those rings back first of all, Lupin!” he snarled and ran up to him.

“Come on now, I just don't feel right living the good life while you're constantly dying for your work. How's a guy meant to enjoy his hedonistic lifestyle knowing something like that's going on?” He flickered his fingers and the rings sparkled from the dirty light overhead.

“I'm not here to ease your conscious, Lupin, I'm here to do my job.”

Lupin made eye contact with him them, looking like he wanted to say something else. Instead he took off running down a side ally.

It only took a few days for the shadows to appear. He chased the gang with just as much passion as they seemed to follow him. It became an extremely odd game of cat and mouse in which they all swapped roles regularly. He could be walking down a street and see traditional Japanese clothing occasionally throughout a sea of suits and ties, or take a handful of officers on a raid and there seemed to be gunfire that came out of nowhere and took out enemies perfectly. More than once he had to threaten to arrest Fujiko when she'd come up to him dolled up in a disguise.

“Aw, come on, Zenigata, don't want a repeat performance?” she teased and he nearly passed out from embarrassment. Past sexual interaction aside, he remained indifferent to her charms, though he found himself running away from her more than not.

It officially became too much when he was at a closed factory that had been converted into a makeshift headquarters. In one of those coincidental moments all the other staff had either gone home or were out collecting information and he was the only one in the building. It was still, late at night and the only sound was the odd car driving on a distant road. He'd been looking down at his desk and his eyes were extremely heavy.

He must've dozed off, except it was a light enough that he felt another presence enter the room and approach him. He rose to alertness while feigning sleep, waiting to see what was going to happen. As he felt cloth drag across his shoulder he snapped forward and handcuffed the hairy hand in front of him to his desk.

“What are you doing, Lupin?” he grumbled and yawned.

Lupin had paused and looked down at him in bemusement, one hand holding a blanket he had been halfway through dragging over him. “Making sure you're getting some rest. Can't have you dying on us yet, Pops.”

He sighed. “Still on this, are you?” He took the blanket from Lupin and folded it over his arm. “It's not like it matters in the long run.”

Lupin's smile became tight. “Just because you're somewhat immortal doesn't mean you should go rushing into these situations.”

“I'm not rushing into anything, Lupin, I'm doing my job. Sometimes in my line of work it results in death.”

“That's no attitude to have. Say, I've given it some more thought. Why don't you come with us for some R and R? You've been doing this far longer than any other officers in your field and you haven't taken a break once during that time.” Lupin leaned against his desk the best his position would allow, spindly legs crossed over each other like he had every right to be there.

“No thanks, I've got too many things to deal with coming up, including your planned theft in a couple of days.”

“Hey, you can always take a couple of months and then get back to it. It's not like it makes a difference if everything resets again anyway.”

“Dammit, Lupin, of course it makes a difference!” he snapped. “There's still people out there being affected by the crimes each time they happen!”

“Pops...” Lupin said carefully, like he was speaking to a small child. “It's not just them, you're also being affected by this. You can't be expected to keep up with everything all the time. You know what we've been doing sometimes during these jumps? Sometimes we'll just take huge loads of money so we can spend months indulging ourselves, living the high life. Don't get me wrong, thieving is my very existence and I love it, but even I need a rest here and there.”

Zenigata mulled over his words. It wasn't that he was worried about the risk of a timeline that stuck if he took a break and all those cases he originally solved or crimes he prevented would be undone. It was that there was something deeply rooted in him to keep at his work. He had to solve these cases, it was what he was hard-wired to do. No more than a cogwheel could stop rotating with it's machine could Zenigata stop working through the loops.

“I can't, Lupin. I'll rest when I'm dead for real.”

“Hm, I knew you'd say something like that.” He shrugged and then dropped something on the ground. Smoke puffed up instantly and Zenigata half-heartedly chased him out the building.

He didn't tell Lupin the nightclub case was coming up in the next month. Zenigata had been successful in pushing everything along earlier than the first and second time, including getting riot police assigned to accompany him. He had to know if he could pull this off. He was being extra careful to find out if it would go well.

Zenigata didn't know he would die in the ensuring fire fight that would erupt when they stormed the place. Even as Jigen and Goemon would creep through the nightclub and protect him from the shadows it would be a lost cause. He would chase several men they'd identified as higher ups of the operation out of the club and into a lot behind it where several dozen more girls were in another building. The whole place would be burnt to the ground with him in it, set alight by a grenade, enough methanol and other chemicals to get the place burning red within a matter of minutes. He would break down as many doors as he could and die hearing the screams of women around him.

If he had of known this, he would been extra careful to keep Lupin and the rest away. He would do his best to avoid traumatising them along with him.

He felt failure as he'd collapsed from smoke inhalation, but what really stayed with him was the feeling of his arms burning and fire drowning him.

Within a few hours of the next loop he was walking down a quiet street at night when the streetlight he passed chimed then split in two, crashing onto the road next to him.

“The next time the flesh burns off your body you will be alone,” Goemon called behind him.

Zenigata sighed and kept walking.

They tried a different approach after that. The obvious one in which they let themselves get caught. Zenigata was pursuing them after they'd robbed a jewellery store and got their car surrounded on a freeway, the simplicity itself should have been a sign something was off. They made it all the way to the station and processing with Lupin and Jigen. By the time they were being moved to a high-security prison Zenigata realised what they were doing.

He was showered with praise and platitudes. The higher-ups were absolutely delighted he caught them and spared no expense on the oversight and imprisonment of the two of them. He got a bizarre two months of Lupin-free peace. It felt a little empty and he made sure to visit the two of them when he could.

“Enjoying your break, Pops?” Lupin asked with tired eyes across the visitor's table.

“Lupin,” he groaned. “You are without a doubt the most difficult criminal I've had to deal with, but by no means the only one.”

“Are you flattered by the show at least?” The trademark grin was on his face.

Zenigata sighed and ignored the blush that came over his face, knowing Lupin had honed in on it immediately. “It has been pretty relaxing, if a little boring as well.”

The next day Lupin and Jigen broke out. The real surprise was that it took so long. He was approached the same day by the sheepish prison warden and promised they would do better next time.

He lasted two more years. Of all things, a heart attack got him again. He absolutely wasn't anticipating another one, especially when he'd been careful of his limits. It was likely one too many cups of coffee and late nights he'd told himself were required. It was a big one and killed him outright, a car crash wasn't necessary.

He was slammed right in the middle of a stand off with the four of them in what appeared to be an underground bunker. They blinked at him in surprise.

“Heart attack,” he clarified. “Now give me those jewels!”

The next four loops were relatively normal. In total it wound up to around fifteen years of standard Lupin-steals-Zenigata-chases.

The most recent death, after opening his eyes from having his throat slit he immediately fell to his knees gasping, feeling his neck to make sure the skin was all together.

“I can guess what the last cause was,” Jigen remarked while looking down at him. He had a hefty bag slung over his shoulder.

Zenigata coughed and looked around. They were in a mansion's brightly lit foyer with an alarm blaring around them.

“You okay there, Pops?” he asked, eyes visible from Zenigata's angle.

He groaned and rubbed his neck more. “I'd say I'm getting too old for this but I'm pretty sure I'm three years younger.”

He was too rattled to give them a proper chase and they got away again.

That loop ended that week. A fellow inspector who wound up being on a mafia's payroll put a bullet in his back as he was mentally piecing together evidence in an American store that was front for hiding bodies and moving money. It had hit a lung and he fell to the floor, looking up at the other inspector about to put another bullet in him. Before it happened the gun split apart ten different ways and then the officer's head fell from his body.

“As much disregard for your own life as ever,” Goemon grumbled and rounded a shelf.

“I appreciate it,” he rasped and meant it.

The samurai sat next to him, legs crossed, and began muttering a Buddhist prayer over him.

Something about having a fellow officer attempt to kill him struck him down again. It was another reminder that there was so much corruption in the world he couldn't prevent. The next loop was a standard affair, during which he mulled on being killed by a fellow Interpol agent, then after a few years he was killed in brutal car accident in a high-speed police chase. The dashboard almost completely separated his torso from the rest of his body.

He dragged himself through the next four years, then began to prepare for what was coming up. His weariness didn't go unnoticed.

“Has Lupin told you about the nightclub yet?” he asked Fujiko while she was behind the bar. She had snuck into a high-end Japanese place as a purple-haired bartender. He didn't have the drive to arrest her.

She nodded while rocking the cocktail shaker. “I've been told about it, yes.”

“Its coming up soon.” He moved to light a cigarette.

“You don't think you can take a different case? This isn't usually your department.”

“There are children,” was all he needed to say to make her understand. “I've got the edge of seeing what they're going to have prepared for us. Maybe this time it will go well and they can be saved.”

She smiled at him. “Good luck, inspector.”

He was on high alert when they stormed the place. Patrons shrieked as armed officers rushed past tables and stages and began to swarm through the back rooms. The first gun got fired as they approached the back entrance and it was like lighting a flare. He ran in with Inspector Byrne after the riot police with his handgun at the ready.

He was in a hallway when he grabbed Bryne's collar and tugged him back as several machine gun rounds blasted through the wall next to them.

He didn't hear the thanks before he was running to the back room where he knew three of the most important members were. He shot the lock and ducked to one side as the rest of the door was blasted apart by a shotgun round. He waited to hear swearing and scuffling before he rounded the doorway and shot one of them fleeing through a back window. He jumped over the body on his way after them, ignoring the calls of the riot police to stay back and let them go first.

Footsteps were loudly running behind him while he ran to the lot. He managed to shoot one of them in the shoulder along the way. The man cried out and tripped, landing on his face badly. Zenigata kicked his gun away while he ran past and through the wired gate that was swinging open.

The last time the grenade was thrown as he stepped up to doorway he instinctively kicked it back into the building. This time when it rolled in front of him he took a deep breath as he was running and kicked it hard to the right. He heard the explosion go off a few seconds later, the shock wave close enough that it slammed him into the steel door as he passed through it.

It winded him and one of them took the opportunity to land a shot in his left arm. The pain flared and blinded him momentarily. He lunged out of the doorway to recover, another bullet flying past his head as he did so. He took a couple of deep breaths, watching as the riot police and were getting closer. The one at the front raised his automatic and fired through the centre of the doorway without breaking his stride. Zenigata heard a shout of pain in the building.

He let them run in first. There were only four of them and the rest must've been caught up at the main building. Once the final one was through the doorway he was on their heels.

He followed them to the first cross section of hallways, he waited until he heard one, two, then three separate voices cry out after gunfire before he began to let his guard down. The doors started being broken open and shrieking girls were heard from within them. They were quickly ordered out of the rooms.

His arm was aching and soaked in blood, droplets falling at his elbow. He was beginning to get faint.

Zenigata watched the other officers direct the women out and despaired when flames suddenly burst from one of the room to the right. He hadn't kicked the grenade far enough.

“Everyone out!” one of the riot police roared and the four armed men and the crying girls ran towards the exit. “Zenigata!” one of them called as he ran further in.

He had to get this perfect, he didn't want to do it over again. He didn't know if he had the willpower to fail and prepare himself to live this once more.

He ran past the doorway billowing black smoke, holding his breath while he did so and making him dizzier. Raising his gun he shot at the door next the flaming room, it took him three tries to hit the lock and he had to kick it twice before it finally gave out.

Young women were crying in the room when he slammed it open.

“Out!” he yelled and frantically gestured towards himself. Six girls ran for him and he pointed to his left. He had to shove the group forward to encourage them past the doorway on fire and then kept them running forward and pointing left again at the hallway to the exit. They ran barefooted to the night air.

He had to know what was behind the final door. He ran back towards the fire that was spreading into the hallway across the roof and into the areas closest to it. The final door in the right corridor hadn't been kicked down by the riot police and wasn't one he could remember opening last time this happened.

He stumbled to it, shot it once and missed completely, bullet landing into the wall next to the door. The gun fell from his hand and he slammed against the door, out of breath and losing his strength fast. The door knob mercifully turned and he stumbled into the room.

It was filled with stacks of fake bills. _'Money-counterfeiting'_ , he thought. He wheezed out a laugh, having fulfilled the purpose he was assigned there in the first place for, then the wall to his left exploded. He was knocked against the opposite wall and slid down, bills swirling in the black air around him.

His ears were ringing, his vision was turning white, and the last thing he felt was hands on his shoulders.

He woke up in a daze wheezing. He couldn't see or hear and the only sense he had was sharp pain in his chest, like needles moving behind his ribcage. Hands came around his shoulders and lifted him up. The coughing finally slowed to a rattle in his lungs. Glass pressed against his lips and he mercifully drank the lukewarm water. It dulled the burning inside as he was lowered down again.

He woke up next gradually. He became aware he was on a bed, then aware he was in a room, then he could hear voices in another room, until eventually he opened his eyes and saw wooden roofing over him.

Zenigata couldn't talk yet. He was completely drained, every drop of energy had been sucked out of him. A man appeared in his line of sight. He didn't have the strength or thought process to ask what was going on, so instead he closed his eyes and felt himself being probed and inspected until he fell back asleep.

Eventually he woke again, having the strength to open his eyes almost right away. Someone was stroking the back of his hand and his fingers twitched in response.

“Awake, sleeping beauty?” Fujiko asked him softly, her lithe body barely weighing down the side of the bed. She pressed up his hand with her own then gently lowered it back to the bed, letting it go.

He took in a deep breath, let his eyes flutter a few times to adjust to the light.

“Evening, Pops,” Lupin said as he appeared over him.

“What's going on?” he asked after a beat.

“You're dead, Pops,” Lupin answered with a smile and sat down on a small couch next to him.

“I am?”

“Yeah. Sorry to lay this all on you but we've been keeping this here for a while. Check it out.”

Lupin fumbled with a paper, then turned it around and held it up to a full page spread. The title was 'ICPO INSPECTOR DIES IN FIREY INFERNO' and his badge picture was in the top right hand corner.

“Huh, looks like I'm dead.” He didn't feel any particular way about it just, he may as well have been reading about another officer.

Lupin continued smiling and folded the paper back on the small beige table.

“Your funeral was very impressive by the way.” He looked over to Jigen coming in through a doorway. “Lots of cops from all over, lots of criminals as well.”

“About that actually, you know how many criminals were there to express their gratitude to you for setting them on the straight and narrow?” Lupin teased weakly. “I thought I was the only crook you were trying to help become a productive member of society.”

Zenigata smiled. “There's still hope for you yet.”

Lupin laughed and reached for a packet of cigarettes on the table.

“They painted you as a hero,” Jigen continued at the foot of his bed, Goemon appeared in the doorway behind him. “Used lots of positive adjectives in the article and eulogy. You died an angel to the force, Pops.”

“Mmm, I can't stay dead.”

“Yes, you can,” Lupin said quickly. “Don't want to ruin the classic story of a cop going out in a blaze of glory, do you?”

He smiled again and closed his eyes, the lights were too bright for him.

It took another week of recovery before he was no longer completely confined to bed in between bathroom breaks and showering. His left arm still ached fiercely from the bullet and he had to accept it may have left permanent damage. The doctor they'd found and no doubt paid exorbitant amounts of money to keep his mouth shut was good at his job and got him on his feet quicker than a lot could've.

He got dressed, buttoning up his shirt as he walked into the massive lounge room. It had stairs to a second story where there was more furniture visible. There were plenty of rooms in this house, it wasn't a small place from what he'd seen so far. It had a wooden rustic design that he'd seen in plenty of millionaire's houses before.

He moved towards the balcony where he could see a familiar figure sitting and smoking. He opened the doors and breathed in the crisp air, so clean compared to the cities he'd spent most of his life in. He looked across at mountains in the distance, all rich green and some further away had snow on them. The valley below had a small township in it.

“Where am I, Lupin?” he asked quietly.

“Your house, of course,” he stated then took a drag of his cigarette. “One that used to belong to another no-good criminal and was decided would be better suited for you.” Goemon was sitting quietly next to him with his eyes closed, Zantetsuken resting against his chest.

“This is so surreal. For the first time since this all started, it feels like a dream. It feels wrong.” He leaned forward and rested his good arm on the railing.

“You'll get used to living a life without expecting suffering,” Lupin stated.

“I should go back to Interpol.”

Goemon raised a hand upwards. Lupin sighed and reached into his jacket, pulled out a small bundle of money and shoved it into his outstretched palm.

“That's just not an option, Pops. You know it will eventually just bounce you back.” Lupin took another drag.

“We're getting real close to the original death's date, you know. Before all this started.”

“It's not a first. It's happened a few times before, right?”

“Yeah, it's happened twice, first time I went a month over and the second I lasted a year.” That was years ago. “What's to say I won't die out here?”

“Out here you're not an inspector.” Lupin was giving him such a pointed stare it almost sent a chill up Zenigata's spine. “Tell me, Pops, have you ever died for a reason outside of line of duty?”

He knew immediately he hadn't and it was the first time he actually realised it. The closest was the heart attacks which were caused by overworking. He felt dizzy all over again.

To think, all this time it might not have been a force trying to ensure his life or death, but ensure his retirement.

He looked back over the mountains and took in the breeze again. This wasn't how he pictured his retirement, he never even saw himself having one. When it got to the point where he was no longer physically capable of running after criminals he expected to be called on for his experience, it was a regular thing that happened to long-serving Interpol agents.

He was tired. It was a belated and retrospectively obvious revelation. How many decades had he been working? When was the last time he hadn't been out of his apartment or preparing to leave his apartment?

He'd stopped the nightclub and pulled as many as he could from the purple rooms, he allowed himself to feel some small peace at that.

He could give this a try, see what this would lead to. If it didn't work out he always had Interpol's number.

Lupin and his lot hung around for a few more days before taking off. There were enough supplies to last him a solid month and more food in a deep freezer, not that it would matter too much because he also found an enormous stack of money hidden in his bedroom closet. He explored and learned the ins and outs of his new property, finding 6 bedrooms, four bathrooms, an obscenely large kitchen, a lounge room with a giant TV, a small room with two enormous bookcases packed with books in a language he didn't understand, a wine cellar with full racks, a spa room, a cinema room, and an office. Outside amongst lush green hills there was a veranda overlooking the valley, on it a large dining table with chairs. He spent his first night alone drinking wine there wondering what the hell he was doing.

The next day he travelled a few hours to the town and was relieved the locals spoke a language he understood and spoke decently. They were all intrigued by the Japanese man who'd moved in recently and hadn't come to visit. He was told his friends came into town and told them he was recovering from a severe illness which is why he hadn't visited. He dreaded learning what else Lupin had told them so he didn't ask for any more details.

He spent the day becoming accustomed to the town and spending time in numerous cafés. Most of the locals only looked at him and instead he became friendly with the shopkeepers. He gave them a fake name, something easy to pronounce, and left with numerous goods from the local bakery.

The following month was torture, he didn't know what to do with himself. He mostly moved from room to room, staring at the wall mounted phones and reminding himself of the trouble Lupin went through to get him here and that it was too early to throw in the towel.

He passed the date of his first death and he was still around.

By the second month at his new house he'd started a garden. He'd spent hours in the little shop he'd bought seeds from, rapidly scribbling notes as the elderly woman behind the counter gave him a lifetime of instructions and tips.

Lupin, Jigen and Goemon appeared again in the third month.

“We need a place to crash for a while!” Lupin announced, strolling through the door while Zenigata was reclined on his couch reading a tablet. “Got any decent food?”

Later, after they'd strong-armed him into making the local delicacy, Lupin had pulled him aside and asked with gentleness that frankly scared Zenigata, “How's it working out?”

“Boring,” he replied bluntly.

“Me too,” Lupin sighed. “None of these new cops are halfway decent at giving chase. I haven't been close to being caught once.”

“Time for you to retire?”

Lupin laughed. “As if, it's in my blood.”

“Yeah, well, it was never in my blood either,” he groused while swirling his wine glass.

Lupin smirked. “Is this life growing on you?”

“Give it another year and ask me again.”

A year later, all five of them were on his veranda after eating, enjoying a post meal cigarette and sake.

“So, how's retirement treating you?” Jigen asked between a drag.

“It's growing on me.”

Lupin gave him the same smirk.

The locals liked him and the feeling was mutual. He did odd jobs around town, he didn't spend too much money and he got by easily. A year later he was given a puppy no one else could apparently take who became his only constant companion aside from the vegetable garden. Lupin and his gang still hid out regularly, at one point staying with him for four months while they waited for an especially viscous mafia to tear itself apart before they could re-enter any major city. His dog received lots of attention during that period.

Years past, his bones got stiffer and his hair had completely turned a dark grey. Before he knew it he had been retired for more than eight years.

He liked his current life at long last, and it filled him with dread to think of waking up and being an inspector again after this. Like the nightclub, it had changed him somehow, he didn't know if he could cope being looped again.

“I don't know what I'm going to do if I die and wake up an inspector again. I don't know whether I'd be relieved or angry,” Zenigata admitted after a few too many glasses of red to Lupin one night.

“Well, let's cross that bridge if we get to it,” Lupin stated and blew out cigarette smoke.

**Author's Note:**

> I want to watch parts 1 and 2 but Crunchyroll won't let me watch it in my region. :(


End file.
